


Eggs and Flour: 1, Thráin: 0

by QueenUndertheBloodyMountain



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Actually Pre-Sadness in General, Gen, Other, Prank Gone Very Wrong, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Pre-Azanulbizar/Moria, Pre-Smaug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-08
Updated: 2014-08-08
Packaged: 2018-02-12 09:13:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2103978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenUndertheBloodyMountain/pseuds/QueenUndertheBloodyMountain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Where Thorin fucks up, the Durin grandchildren ALL get into trouble, Thráin is furious, and Thrór is a badass who thinks it's hilarious. (Pre gold sickness, Azanulbizar, and horrendously sad happenings). A <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/2098251">prequel</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eggs and Flour: 1, Thráin: 0

Thorin put the last touches on his scheme; he’d been working almost three hours on a pair of small contraptions. One was a catapult-like mechanism made of a huge wooden spoon—large enough for a Halfling to sit in—with over three dozen eggs in it, ready to swing up and over, the other a large sack of open flour, ready to fall as soon as the catapult had splattered it’s intended with the eggs. He smirked as he tossed the last shells into a bin and crouched down behind some large stoves, waiting for his brother to finally come through the door and trip the chord he’d set down. Earlier that day, Thorin had recruited the help of his sister to write a note to their fair haired brother, signed by a dwarrowdam Frerin had been flirting with for the past few weeks, telling him to meet her in the royal kitchens at midnight, long after the rest of the workers had gone home for the evening. Thorin was sure this prank would be perfect; after Frerin had _somehow_ turned Thorin’s room on it’s head, Thorin vowed to come up with the perfect prank to wipe the smug smile off the brat’s face. The eldest prince had yet to figure out how his brother had achieved such a feat in one afternoon—he suspected the help of his best friend, a burly a dwarf as he was, even with the ridiculous Mohawk—but he was loath to actually admit his brother had him baffled at the achievement. A face full of eggs and flour should show the blonde.

Half an hour later—and _of course_ Frerin would be late as always—the eldest prince finally heard footsteps coming down the hall. His smile was hard to contain, as was his anticipation, as he peered around the metal in front of him; a deep and familiar voice echoed through the hall, but _not_ the voice of the person he was expecting! Thorin leapt from his position and called out to warn them from what was ahead.

He shouted but it was too late; Thráin, crowned heir to the throne of Erebor, regal prince and his father, tripped the damned wire at the kitchen’s door. The spoon swung up and splashed all down Thráin’s front, the sack of flour falling and splitting over his head and shoulders not a moment later, the intended victim standing just behind the royal, along with their younger sister.

Egg dripped from Thráin’s beard and hair, his lavish sleeping robe and shirt completely soaked through and ruined, his eyes—thankfully unharmed as he had forethought to close them just before being doused—were wide in shock and utter disbelief at what had just transpired.

For a very long moment, nobody moved or spoke (Thorin hardly even breathed), the only sounds were soft dripping of egg and the labored breathing of the crown prince as realization suddenly began to dawn on him.

“What in Mahal’s name is _wrong_ with you three?!” Thráin exploded, his tone alarming his children and causing them to stand at attention, “I come down here, after learning about your stupid pranks on one another, to put an end to your foolish tricks!

“I had to practically pull it out of your brother and sister to discover the room incident and of you _bribing_ your sister to write that damned fake note, and now—now _this_?! **This. Ends. NOW!** ” he bellowed. “I have had enough of your foolishness! All of you!

“You,” he spun, pointing at Dìs who shrank closer to her older brother, “Are damn well old enough to know not to blindly follow your brothers with whatever stupid scheme they put you up to! And not for something as ridiculous as desserts!”

“You,” he yelled, rounding on Frerin, “I should think would have learned your lesson after the incident on the mountain side, where your sister nearly _drowned_!

“And _you_ ,” he growled at Thorin, spinning back and sending egg and clotted flour flying, “are to be crowned-bloody-prince after myself! You are a prince of Erebor and should damn well be above such childish behavior! You and Frerin both are on double patrols for the next two months! And if you slack, even once on them **or** your regular duties, I’ll make it three! And you, Dìs, are without your precious sweets for just as long. **Now clean this fucking mess up! All of you!**

“Yes father,” they mumbled, heads bowed in shame as their father stormed out. They each looked at each other gloomily, what had started out as innocent fun now made their faces burn in humiliation. They all three retrieved rags and water and began to clean the floors and surfaces from eggs and flour.

After a while, footsteps could be heard coming down the hall, all three looked up in fear, thinking it was their father come to punish and yell at them further. They let out worried sighs, as their grandfather was the one to round the corner, unsure if they were supposed to be scared or relieved. A large smile graced the usually stern dwarf’s face, setting the children at ease a little.

“Whose brilliant idea was it to toss eggs and flour into your father’s face?” he asked, chuckling down at his three grandchildren.

“Mine sir,” Thorin muttered, embarrassed, “it was meant to be Frerin, in retaliation for him turning everything in my room upside down last week. Apparently, Father found out.”

“I’d say!” Thrór burst out, holding his belly as he practically rolled with laughter, “I haven’t seen him so red in the face since your mother accidentally shorn off half his beard in the second month of their marriage! And that was half his own damn fault!” he continued, walking around the grandchildren and fixing some tea and biscuits for himself.

He slipped a biscuit to Dìs with an affectionate pat on the head, and shot a wink at his grandsons. “Don’t look so glum boys, it’s only a little mess and some patrol duties; the memory of your father covered in muck though? You’ll be laughing about _that_ for years to come!” he cackled, walking out.

The King under the mountain’s visit had put them in much better spirits, all three cleaning in a more comfortable silence now, until Thorin thought of something their father had mentioned in his tirade.

“Frerin, how did you know the note was a fake? I thought it was fairly convincing.”

“It would have been,” Frerin chuckled, wringing out his rag, “If Haldìn had any interest in meeting with _me_ of all people.”

Thorin gave him a questioning look, obviously not understanding the joke or humor of the situation.

“Made a very lascivious comment about her by mistake when we were drinking a few nights ago. _Apparently_ her sister was there and overheard; took it straight back to her. Received quite the slap around the face for that one, tell ya that. Father found me laughing at the note in the hallway to our rooms and practically threatened to pull my beard off if I didn’t explain what the hell was going on. That’s when little Dìs came out and he rounded on her; had the poor thing in tears, didn’t he Dìs?”

Dìs nodded solemnly, still scrubbing at the floor in front of her, cheeks reddening again in embarrassment.

“So he pulled us both down here and was met by your spoon; I reckon you should have told Dís the rest of your plan brother,” Frerin laughed, “Then he might not have been ended up resembling a badly made cake mix! Tell ya though, even with the patrols, it was damn well worth the look on your face!”

Thorin threw his rag at his brother, grinning, “You should have seen Father’s!”

All three burst out into raucous laughter before managing to contain themselves and finish cleaning, heading to bed after everything was done. Thrór was right, it was definitely something they would remember till their dying days.

**~FIN~**

**Author's Note:**

> Finally figured out the link thing! So visit my tumblr [here](http://ilikechocolatemilkh.tumblr.com/) if you'd like, or if you have any story ideas you might want me to try. I promise to give it my all but can't promise much more than that.


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